


Some Measure of Comfort

by ladybug114



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Eurydice (mentioned), F/M, M/M, Patroclus (mentioned), reference to canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybug114/pseuds/ladybug114
Summary: The night after Patroclus dies, Achilles has a dream.A visitor, someone Achilles knows from stories. As the two men speak, Achilles realizes how similar their stories are.





	Some Measure of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been listening to Hadestown on loop the past few weeks, which got me thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice (one of my favorite myths), and I've also been reading The Aeneid, which got me thinking about spirits visiting people in dreams. The Orpheus/Achilles parallels were too much for me to ignore.  
> (also, everyone should listen to Hadestown)

That night, Achilles is sure that he won’t be able to sleep. He is trying desperately not to think, but in trying not to think, he finds himself thinking even more.

It is a vicious cycle, and he fears that he may be trapped in it forever.

Until he closes his eyes, trying one more time to find the release of rest, and he opens them what feels like only a moment later to see a man standing next to his cot. Achilles sits up immediately, his heart in his throat, because surely this man was not there a moment before. It is dark in the tent, but the man is lit with a soft glow that seems to come from everywhere and yet has no discernible source. He is tall, likely only a few years older than Achilles himself, and he is holding in his hands a gorgeous lyre. Achilles allows his eyes to travel up to the man’s face, and then he gasps and must look away.

One side of the man’s head is almost completely caved in. There is no blood, no gore, but it is difficult to look at. On closer look, Achilles can see more signs of abuse, gashes and bruises across the man’s whole body, but he can see no blood at all.

“You are a spirit,” Achilles finally says, his voice quiet and his eyes firmly fixed to the ground. “You are not real.”

“One of those statements is true,” the man says, and Achilles can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Who… who are you? Why have you come to me?”

“You might have heard of me, actually,” the man says after a short pause. “I believe that my story is still being told today. My name is Orpheus.”

Achilles’s head snaps up. “Orpheus?”

The man--Orpheus--grins, and Achilles shudders. The smile is so bright, so cheerful, and it looks horribly wrong on his deformed face. “Ah, so you have heard of me,” he says, and he is grinning, grinning.

“I have,” Achilles says, his eyes darting away, looking anywhere but at that blinding smile. “I know your story, and it is… it is strange to see you smiling now.”

Orpheus almost laughs. “The way I reunited with my love might not have been the most typical method, but I saw her again in the end, and that is enough to make me smile now.”

“You found her in the Underworld?” Achilles asks, forcing himself to look Orpheus in the eye. 

“I did,” he says, “and that is why I am here tonight.” Orpheus pauses, and Achilles stays silent, somehow knowing that the dead man has more to say. “I am not sure which of the gods sent me here, but just as you know my story, I know yours. We are similar in many ways, you and I. We both made the same mistake.”

“And what… what mistake is that?” Achilles asks, forcing himself to look Orpheus in the eyes, even when the other man laughs at his question.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “We fell in love.”

Achilles feels his shoulders tense, and he forces himself not to look at the body still sitting in the corner of the tent. “Don’t you dare call that a mistake,” he hisses.

Orpheus lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I mean no offense,” he says, “but tell me the truth, Achilles. If you had not fallen in love, would he be here?”

Achilles closes his eyes, Orpheus’s calm, kind, damaged face almost too much to bear. If he had not fallen in love, where would Patroclus be today? Perhaps back at his father’s house with the other young men who were unable to fight, but perhaps still here, dying in a different way, at a different time, but dying just the same. “He might be,” Achilles says, his eyes still closed. “Our stories are not the same, Orpheus. Patroclus died in a battle that could not be avoided. Eurydice died in a tragic accident.” He opens his eyes. “Do you wish you had never loved her?”

“Sometimes,” Orpheus says immediately. “The second time I lost her, I wished that I had just loved her a little bit less. Maybe I wouldn’t have looked back, maybe I would have. Either way, it would not have hurt as much as it did.” There is no smile left on Orpheus’s face now. “Tell me, Achilles. How much does it hurt?”

“How much?” Achilles asks, and then he laughs, but there is no humor in it. “I can hardly breathe through the pain. Every moment it feels like there is something pressing onto my chest, forcing the air out of me. There is no color in the world.  _ Nothing _ is the same.  _ Nothing _ feels the way it’s supposed to.” Achilles shuts his eyes again. “There is no escaping the pain. It is everywhere, filling me and surrounding me and choking me.”

“There is one escape,” Orpheus says, quietly.

“Yes,” Achilles says, opening his eyes, forcing himself to look at every mark on Orpheus’s body. “Did it hurt?” he asks suddenly, surprising himself with the question. “Did it… did it hurt to die?”

“I can see you looking at my face,” Orpheus says. “Does that look painless to you?”

Achilles shudders. “No,” he says, “I know that that hurt, but… but did  _ dying _ hurt?”

“No,” Orpheus says, and his eyes get distant. “No, the dying itself did not hurt at all. I was ready for it, at that point. I welcomed it, because I knew it was the only way that I might be able to see her again.”

“I am almost ready to die,” Achilles says after a moment, and Orpheus’s eyes focus on him again. “There are a couple of things I must do first.”

“You will kill Hector, and then you will die,” Orpheus says, and there is confidence in his voice. “That part of the prophecy has not changed. But the gods are beginning to worry. It is not your job to breach the walls of Troy. That destiny belongs to someone else. But if Hector remains behind those walls, then you might tear them to the ground.”

“I might,” Achilles replies easily.

Orpheus smiles again, but for the first time, it doesn’t look wrong on his face. It is soft, and a little bit sad, and Achilles finds himself thinking of all that Orpheus has been through. One of the only mortals to travel into and out of the Underworld safely, only to lose the one thing he was seeking. How would it feel, to get so close and then to lose everything? How would he feel if he got that close to saving Patroclus, only to let him slip through his fingers?

“The gods fear that they will not be able to stop you,” Orpheus says, cutting into his thoughts. 

“I have no plans to breach the walls. I will kill Hector, and then I will die. This siege meant nothing to me when it began, and it means even less now.”

Orpheus nods. “Despite what you might believe, Hector is an honorable man. I do not think he will hide behind the walls of his city. He knows that it is his destiny to die at your hand, and he will not sacrifice Troy in an attempt to avoid Fate itself.”

“Why have you come,” Achilles says quietly. “You have not told me anything that I do not already know.”

Orpheus hums for a moment, his eyes growing distant again. “I did not choose to come. As I said, I do not know who decided to send me. I do not know their reasoning. But perhaps… perhaps I was sent to bring you some measure of comfort.”

Achilles wants to laugh, but he doesn’t think that he can. “Comfort?” he asks instead. “What comfort can you possibly have to bring me?”

“I see Eurydice always,” Orpheus says quietly, still not looking directly at him. “We are together always, and I know that we will be until the end of time. If your love is true, then Hades will grant you that.” He pauses, and finally turns his eyes to Achilles’s face. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Achilles does not know how to respond. He had hoped, of course, that he would be reunited with Patroclus in death, but he was not sure. To know that it is true, to know that he will be able to see Patroclus again, to hold him again… he cannot speak.

Orpheus smiles, just a little. “I see that it does mean something. I do not know how much meaning you took from this conversation, or even how much of it you will remember in the morning, but I will leave you now. Rest your eyes, Achilles. You will need them in the coming days.”

“Thank you,” Achilles says, and he does not know exactly what compelled him to do so. 

Orpheus simply nods, and then he is gone.

Achilles does not know if he will be able to find sleep after that encounter, but almost immediately after closing his eyes he is awakened by the sun beginning to shine through the walls of his tent.

He rises immediately. He has a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review if you enjoyed this!


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